Seconds
by Saix
Summary: A shot in the darkness towards a dark haired victim of darkness... He now has seconds to live, seconds to breath, laugh, cry and remember, seconds before he dies...
1. Seconds

Seconds  
  
*Warning: Before you read the following, this fanfiction is rather  
depressing*  
  
"Seconds.  
  
You have seconds to think. Seconds to speak. Seconds to laugh. Seconds to cry. You're last few seconds. Seconds. Before you die."  
  
Crashing to his knees, the cement embedding into his jeans. Pain soared across his body, the feelings restricting his movement. An ache rushed down his spine, snapping the veins until blood seeped from the opening. His hands quivered, shaking from fear and the night around him. Fear had come to take him once more and this time there was no escape. The prison of terror would steal his soul and no longer would he see the light, the sun, the earth.  
The darkness surrounded him, taking the boy hostage for life. The wrapped his arms around his stomach to keep the cold away, to keep the wind from freezing him. His breathing became slower, the cold vapour escaping his throat in the form of a cloud. He gritted his teeth, he wasn't going to allow his life to die now, not now, not yet. He wasn't going to give up.  
  
He pressed his blood stained hands against the cement below him, he had to continue. Slowly he stood up, feeling the night air caress his skin. The boy stumbled feeling the pain tear at his skin once more. The boy held his stance, he had to run, run away from this. from everything.  
He took two steps, grasping his stomach once again, avoiding the feeling of his insides screaming to die. He never thought falling would feel like this. There was no warmth or light just the hatred that cursed every move he made. No one in his mind would ever prevent his casualty. No one he knew would cry over his grave or appear at his funeral, what funeral?  
He took several more steps, sliding against the wall using it for a support. Resting he stared up at the stars, wondering whether the stars could help him now. Perhaps they could reassure him he was going to be okay, but not even they would watch over him.  
Clouds covered the sky and soon rain would fall upon the pale skin of the victim. The water dripped down his dark hair, soaked his clothes and trailed his blood behind him. The boy fell against the wall, falling down until he hit the road below him.  
  
"You can't escape death." The voice approached from behind the wall, its deep tone scaring the boy. Leaping to his feet, the boy began to run, run away from the past and his certain death. Maybe he could escape, escape life, escape his friends, enemies and his past. Perhaps he could escape death but there was only one way to find out.  
Rain dripped into his eyes causing his vision to fade. He stumbled over cracks in the road but balanced himself. He couldn't believe he was running from fear, fear of death. Many times the boy had sat in the shower, feeling the pain run down his skin and into the drain. Many times he had hoped that lightning would strike and kill him there. He'd wait, head against the tiled wall, wait for god to take him out and send him to hell where he belonged. If it wasn't in the shower, he'd wonder the streets at night, hands in his pockets, hiding his identity, showing only one scarred eye, much like tonight. He'd stop, watching lovers walk hand in hand holding each other. They had a meaning to live. They had a meaning for getting up in the morning, getting dressed and walking outside. He'd sigh and continue his journey for the meaning for his life. Why was he so important to this earth anyway?  
He'd spin the barrel of his favourite weapon, point towards his forehead and click the trigger. He'd stare death in the eye and never would he flinch its attack. Death retreated, had better things to destroy, more lives to ruin. Never did the bullet fire. Luck was always on his side, pushing him towards continuing with his job. No one ever bother to ask if he felt anything. Showing pain, sorrow and suffering was harder than it looked.  
  
Tonight, he had taken a walk hoping that perhaps he would find a way to continue or fall. Falling had been on his agenda for years but now, he hated the thought. The boy had walked for two hours and now it was four in the morning. A bullet had never looked so assuring. To many religions, life was suffering but then why was he the only one. He was alone in this world, trapped in a prison of darkness cutting away at his skin slowly, allowing the blood to flood his dreams. But he didn't care anymore, he didn't cry anymore. He didn't remember how to cry.  
What are dreams worth if destiny keeps you from reaching them? What are dreams worth if you can't soar towards them? Dreams tore his wings apart, so he had to walk, walk alone.  
  
The boy shivered feeling the cold breeze haunting his body. The rain washed over him, his hair dripping the sorrow all over him. For the first time in almost a lifetime a tear formed in the jade spheres and curled its way down the face of a torn pilot. Why? Why was he afraid now more than ever? Was it because he knew no one was there, no one was there to hug him and tell him everything would be okay? Why wasn't anyone there?  
The boy stopped dropping to his knees once more. He allowed his tears to fall into the ocean below. The water rushed over the boy's legs, the cooling sensation flooding his body. So this is what death felt like.  
  
"I told you, you can't escape death." Another figure splashed the water as he walked across towards the victim. He smiled, admiring the wonders he had caused upon the boy. "You have seconds to live Trowa. What are you going to do? Seconds to think, seconds to decide," The boy laughed, "just a few seconds before I tear you apart once more."  
  
Trowa looked up, shaking his head, shaking the tears away from his face. He stared up, at the street that stood before him. People strolled by on the paths at either side of him. No one stopped to help, no one even glanced to see what was going on. Trowa shivered, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes. The darkness was coming for him now, there was no escape.  
"You've disappeared Trowa." The boy said standing behind him. "You don't matter to this world anymore."  
  
Trowa glanced to his left side watching Catherine, the only person he really cared for, his hidden sister, walk right passed him. Not even the most important people in his life would look at him. Did he exist anymore?  
"What are you going to do with your last few seconds Trowa? Stare at the people that don't care for you, no longer believe that you are alive, or care." Trowa glanced up at the moon, tears in his eyes, lit up by the rays that the moon produced. He wished that just once someone would say how much he meant to them, even if it was just once within his life. Just once.  
  
"You've lived too long. Your seconds are up."  
Trowa closed his eyes, listening to the sounds around him. For once he appreciated the sound of the sea in the distance and the idea that the stars and the moon were shining down upon him. He imagined that it was warm, no longer did a bullet wound bleed sorrow and hate. He imagined that a crowd was around him, smiling, loving and caring.  
He opened his eyes, looking at the figures around him.  
"Thankyou," he murmured.  
  
For the years he had lived, he had hardly been able to produce a smile or a laugh. The stars allowed him one last time before another bullet would slash at his life. Trowa smiled, it was for no one, not the stars, the moon, the shooter, the city, the strollers, the bullet, death, life, hatred, love or for Catherine. It was for no one but himself.  
  
A bullet hacked at the sky, forward towards the young boy. He closed his eyes, listening to his life around him for his last few seconds. Everything sounded. perfect.  
  
Heero turned around, placing the gun in his pocket. He walked away, away from the victim of another bullet. No longer did it possess any life, a spirit or a soul. That had all been stolen many years before. The world unfroze around the pilot as he strolled away. People rushed to the scene, but there was nothing they could do.  
Tears still fell from his eyes.  
He only wished he could have spent his last few seconds with someone that cared. Even if they were only seconds. 


	2. Minutes

Minutes  
  
Perhaps his own fear had dragged him towards the trap that lay before him. Perhaps his fear of living had drawn him towards taking the streets late at night. The depth of the night frightened him but he didn't care anymore. Fear meant nothing in his world. Fear would drive him back, back away from his mission. He had to complete the mission.  
Snow touched his face on the cold winter's night. The frost had fallen for countless amounts of nights, the cold covering the happiness of summer with a blanket of sin. The grass surrendered to the power of winter, even the evergreens would fall to the power of the snow. No one would walk on an evening such as this one. No one would dare challenge the rathe of winter, no one but one young boy.  
  
He seemed to have nothing to live for, nothing to loose. Why not take a nice stroll through the chilled cities of earth? His footprints sank several centimetres before stable ground was reached. The road was covered in the white sea, the trees, cars, buildings, everything had been sealed for the few months of frozen despair. The boy sighed, watching the cloud of his warm breath disappear ahead of him. He lay his clenched hands into his pockets, keeping them from the bitterness of outside. He continued to walk, watching the night close in around him. The wind picked up around his feet, throwing the snow into a tornado of ice. The boy shielded himself as he walked through the cloud, the cloud of frost, cloud of the past.  
  
The only thing he could think of, the only thing he could remember at that point was the sound of a gun shot, the sound of the piercing streak as it rammed its way through the air. He felt the gun in his pocket, cringing as he touched the trigger.  
The shot fired in his imagination, the boy flinching from the sound. He stared over his shoulder, looking at the tornado behind him. Snow and dust circled around him as the whiteout began to set in. He sighed, he'd have to get home soon.  
The snow patted down on his jacket covering it with the sea of silk. He brushed his shoulder knocking the snow to the ground. He wasn't about to surrender, not to anyone, not even the snow.  
Something streaked through his mind, cutting at his imagination and tearing at the fear that lay deep inside him. The boy stumbled to the side, landing in the snow against a building. He shook the white leaves from his hair, staring up at the snow landing around him.  
"What's going on?" The boy muttered, still sitting in the cold. The memory of the gun shot flooded back into his mind. The sound that everyone will fear one point in their lives. The sound of a deadly weapon, a weapon that had sacrificed millions of lives, a weapon that could take out anyone, anywhere. It drove fear into the hearts of the population and at one point or another, he would feel this fear.  
He stared down at Trowa, the boy rolling in pain, agony and sorrow. Still he felt nothing, no pity, mercy or respect. Trowa had nothing to offer him, why keep him alive? A life was a life. To him it had no meaning, no point, and no destination. Perhaps killing someone was an escape, but why then did the Latin plead for his life.  
The pilot rarely felt pain. Pain was optional, fear was optional. Why then did Trowa feel so much?  
  
Heero stood from his seat, shaking his head, preventing the memory from haunting him. Trowa's eyes, tears flowing like a river, pain creasing every bone in his body. The gun wound bleeding hate and disgust. Tears, pain and suffering's true form. Fear rapidly blazing his veins, burning him from the inside. The gun shot tearing at his skin, skidding through his flesh, scratching his insides. Heero had felt this many times before, gun shot wounds were never a hassle.  
  
Perhaps Trowa had discovered something about life Heero hadn't. Maybe he had something to live for.  
Heero removed the gun from his pocket, sliding several metal bullets into the barrel. He rolled it several times before sighing and taking several more steps into the snow. A weapon of mass destruction, threat to all man kind. Never had he felt like this before. Never had he really stared at the snow, blood soaking his vision from the white crisp sea, wondering what it would feel like to build a snow man. He drummed his fingers against the gun in his hand. Many times he had placed the gun to his head and wished it would take his life, remove him from this world and send him to the burning heaven below. Many nights he had waited, just to sink into his own world, hoping something would drag him down, away from this land.  
Then again, he remembered Trowa's face before he shot him. The fear that had overcome him, the love he had wished for so long and no one was there to give it to him. The fear of the pain that was soaring through him, the cursing and hatred. The way he quivered in the cold, a victim of the gun in his hand. Death had grasped his soul.  
Trowa wished for love, love that he could never have tearing apart oz infiltrations.  
  
He heard the footsteps behind him several seconds before he dropped to the side of the building once more. He closed his eyes and for the first time, regret filled his lungs instead of air. He closed his eyes avoiding the visions, the shots, avoiding any form of the past he could.  
  
"What happened?" An American voice sounded through the whiteout. He stepped into the clearing watching where the pilot sat against the building. He stared through the floating white particles and approached the pilot slowly. He gripped a gun simular to the one Heero held, loaded and ready to fire at any moment.  
"What did you do?" Duo raised the gun towards the pilot but all he did was look up and smile.  
"Perhaps now I'll know what Trowa learnt."  
"What?"  
The snow covered the scene for a minute and drowned out the sound of Heero's mumbling. The wind blew surrounding the pilots, the snow drifting in to their eyesight.  
"Shoot me, Duo. Shoot me and let my life finish."  
"No, you have your whole life to live."  
"I have nothing to live for. Trowa had everything."  
"What happened?" Duo lowered his gun but Heero gripped his. He raised it to his head feeling the cold metal against his hair. His blue eyes shut, tears rushing from them. Pain, pain in its true form. Heero's eyes opened and he wiped the water from his lashes. He stared at the cold water on his finger tips. His blue crystal eyes softened with regret and sadness. The tears flowed, slipping down the sides of his face.  
Duo stared, shocked.  
"Heero."  
"What, what is going on?" Heero clenched his gun, removing it from his head. He dropped it into the snow below him, watching it sink beneath the sea of sorrow. Blood cursed the boy's vision creating an illusion in the snow. He leapt away from the trickling red river, tears dropping into the snow.  
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry Trowa."  
The boy broke down, running passed Duo and into the whiteout. Duo quickly attempted to reach for the boy but missed. He shouted out into the darkness for the boy but Heero couldn't hear anything but the sorrow inside of him.  
  
Heero fell, his knees crashing to the ground soaking his pants. He slammed his hands down into the snow just like Trowa had done moments before his death. His tears feel into the snow, freezing and becoming one with the sea. Just like the dead, it disappeared without a trace and became like every other fallen crystal. It was forgotten resting among other like it. The boy gritted his teeth trying to throw back the darkness inside of him, trying to free everything he had hidden since he was born. Just like Trowa, fear crept over him like darkness against dusks light. The sun won't rise for him, not today, not tomorrow. He was lost in darkness forever. His soul locked in chains inside of him, a gun clasped in his hand. That's the only way he knew, the way of the gun.  
Heero searched for it, the gun locked inside of him, the gun that was sinking in the snow metres away. He had to find the gun, the gun that had killed so many people and hidden reality from the boy's gaze. The wool had been pulled over his eyes for too many years. Now that gun was going to release him.  
  
Release him from fear. Release him from pain. Release him from his past. Release him from the future. Release him from sorrow. Release him from hate. Release him others. And release him from himself.  
  
A gun shot pierced the air, shattering the snow crystals as it punctured them. It scratched at the oxygen until it met its target. Silence fell over the town, nothing stirred. It was almost as if the snow itself froze to observe the scene. Nothing moved and for that moment everything, surrounding the pilots amongst the snow, stopped. Heero looked up at the enemy holding his gun.  
"So I bleed again?" The boy said falling backwards into the snow, blood trailing down into the white blanket beneath him.  
"I'm sorry but I have to get you back home." Duo walked through the forest of snow crystals until he reached the fainted boy lying on the ground. He lifted him from the cold below, holding him just high enough so that he could wrap his scarf around the boy's gunshot wound.  
"Why don't you just leave me here Duo? I don't want to live like this anymore." Tears flooded Heero's vision as he gripped the American's shoulder. "I don't want to live a life of everlasting pain, like Trowa." The boy began to moan from pain and the guilt that scared him inside.  
"Forget Trowa," Duo whispered comforting his victim. "Live the life he would have wanted. Live his life for him." Heero gasped at the air. He felt his heart begin to slow, overcome by the force of the bullet that narrowly missed. Heero's breathing scattered and he shut his eyes. His grip on the American's shoulder loosened before it fell into the snow below.  
Duo smiled lifting the boy into his arms.  
"You sleep well. You'll see the light again and you can start again. You won't have to live in the shadow of your gun."  
  
Duo dropped the black gun into the snow, the crystals slowly covering it in white dots until it became part of the sea, part of the forgotten world, part of the past.  
  
*I don't own Gundam Wing but I do own this fic. If you like then review, I always appreciate what people think. Thanks to all the people that have read this ad either reviewed or even thought about it.* 


End file.
